


Stop, I'm Not A Hufflepuff!

by Mao555



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mao555/pseuds/Mao555
Summary: Grindelwald transfers to Hogwarts and gets sorted into Hufflepuff...what?!Light-hearted, Comedy, HEUpdates every other day, 9 to 10pm (GMT+8)





	1. Then the book slid off, and a handsome face appeared.

The man stepped off the carriage and with a tip of his hat bade the driver goodbye. 

"Now, you just follow me and keep close, understand? Need to get you straight to the headmaster..." 

Behind him was a boy, pale and silent, in robes as midnight black as the man's. They moved with astonishing speed, the man muttering underneath his breath, while the pale boy gave out hardly a sound. Even his footsteps were silent.  

Hogwarts looked shabbier than he thought. Some parts of its ramparts were crumbling, others were almost demolished, and still others were overgrown with ivy. This can hardly compare with Durmstrang which prided itself on being nothing short of spick-and-span, or as its headmaster likes to say: "Media ready."

"I heard they accept Muggle-borns here."

The man froze in his tracks. He said, after a pause:

"I believe they do, yes."

Without turning around, the man continued his swift ascent up the stairs and through the main hall. 

"Not even a ghost to welcome us..." 

The man had a displeased look on his face, but not once did he stop his journey.

It must be recess, thought the boy. He looked towards the direction of the lawn. Already, he had memorised the general layout of Hogwarts, based on what he could find and the catalog they had mailed him. For instance, he knew Hogwarts accepted Muggle-borns. He had casually mentioned it in front of the man because he knew it would needle his pure-blooded sensibilities. He also knew precisely how many windows and house elves there were in this place, the names and employment history of every teacher, the subjects offered, etc., because Gellert Grindelwald made it his business to be the collector and purveyor of knowledge.  

A well-coiffured woman was clacking her way towards them in her heels. The man sped up his pace and greeted her. 

Yes, she had been awaiting their arrival and will they please follow her to Headmaster Spinel's office, please. 

The trio turned a corner, and a student bumped into Grindelwald, before hurrying away.

Something about the look on his face intrigued Grindelwald. 

Grindelwald extricated himself quietly and slipped off in the direction of the boy. He caught just a glimpse of his robes exiting to the lawn. 

A duel? 

What greeted him was more extraordinary than that. 

"If you break up with me, I swear, I will end my life right here!" The boy was now pointing his wand at his own throat.

There was a momentary silence, then a steady murmur rippled through the student body gathered on the lawn. A few gasps, even shrieks, here and there, but overall, Grindelwald could taste the palpable tension and excitement in the air.

Who was this speech directed at? He couldn't see very well, hiding behind the castle window. 

"I'm dead serious! You don't want my blood on your hands! I-"

Grindelwald moved a few windows down. Now he could see that the boy seemed to be talking to another student...sleeping under a tree? With a book covering his face? 

"Albus Dumbledore! I'm talking to you!" The boy's voice sounded faintly hysterical now. He was gripping his wand so tightly that the veins stood out against his skin.

Then the book slid off, and a handsome face appeared.

He has red hair, thought Grindelwald, the colour striking even at this distance. He watched as the figure stretched himself lazily, like a cat, and yawned.

"Oh...it's you. What are you doing here?"

"...is this a joke to you?"

"No, no. I know you're serious."

"Why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't, honest."

"I can't find you at your dorm, I can't find you at the dining hall...you won't even show up at our classes anymore! And you say you aren't hiding from me?"

"I'm sick, been feeling under the weather. Must be the flu bug..."

"The flu? The flu?! Don't lie to me, Dumbledore, idiots like you don't catch colds-"

" _Accio_ , wand!"

The boy's wand was in the redhead's hand now, and the students breathed a collective sigh of relief.

It was three seconds before dumb shock registered itself into fury.

"Give that BACK!" 

The redhead expertly held him back with his own wand while brandishing the stolen wand above his head. 

"Please calm down." The faintest trace of a sneer? 

"Don't play the prefect with me."

"You're not really in a position to bargain." The same smile, this time, with a cocked eyebrow. 

" _Accio_ , wand."

The crowd wheeled around as the wand sailed across the air.

Grindelwald stepped out of the shadows of the building, wand in hand. 

"Is that so?" Throwing the wand back to the boy, he turned to him. "Go on. Challenge him to a duel." 

Before the boy could respond, the redhead cut in.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't seen you around before."

"Neither have I."

Taken aback, the redhead was at a momentary loss for words. After he regained his composure, he continued:

"Nice to meet you. My name-"

"Aren't you going to settle things?" Grindelwald pointed a finger at the dumbfounded boy between them. "Hey, you, weren't you going to duel him? Well? Continue."

"I-Not really, I wasn't really-"

"Huh? Then it was all an act?"

"I-"

"Who are you?" The redhead was staring at him now, wand slightly raised. "You aren't wearing Hogwarts robes..."

Grindelwald's grip on his own wand was steady and just as he was pulling it out, there was a shout from behind.

"Boy! Didn't I tell you to keep close!"

The tension dissipated at once. Both the man and the woman were heading towards Grindelwald, and the man leaned in and hissed:

"One more time and-"

Meanwhile, the woman was dispersing the crowd and had gone over to talk to the redhead, who was openly looking at Grindelwald.

"Let's move on, shall we?" 

The woman plastered a big smile on her face. 

* * *

"I have an important announcement to make."

A hushed silence fell on the dining hall when Headmaster Spinel stood up from the staff table right at the front. Evian Spinel was a man of about fifty, with pepper-and-salt hair neatly trimmed and dressed in a gentlemanly double-breasted suit. His grey eyes scanned the faces of his students before continuing. 

"A new student has joined us."

Albus Dumbledore lifted his head up and looked around the hall. Does this have anything to do with that boy from this afternoon?

"He has transferred here from Durmstrang, another wizarding school with a long tradition. Some of you are no doubt familiar with it."

Durmstrang? The school for pure-bloods with an appetite for occult magic? 

"I believe he will be joining the sixth years in their classes with immediate effect. Please, join me in welcoming Mr. Gellert Grindelwald to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore clapped politely with the rest of them. Already, he could feel the restless stirrings of irritation gnawing at his insides as the now familiar face appeared at Spinel's side. Grindelwald bowed his head slightly and this caused his blonde hair to fall over his eyes in an attractive manner.

"Wow. Isn't he handsome?"

"Is he from Northern Europe? They are so blonde and fair at the North Pole."

"Handsome? He looks like a doll to me." A brown-haired boy seated beside Dumbledore scoffed. "A pretty face, but an evil heart. Didn't you see what he did to Blake?"

Dumbledore smiled. Good ol' Doge.

"Who's Blake?" The girl wrinkled her nose. "Besides, that's between Dumbledore and him. You're just jealous you can't get any girl to say the same about you, or date you either."

Elphias Doge's face turned scarlet and he spluttered:

"I'd rather stay single than date you too!"

"Elphias Doge! You-!"

The familiar ruckus at the Gryffindor's table continued, while Dumbledore continued staring at Grindelwald.

Expelled from Durmstrang? Well, whatever. As long as -

For a moment, their eyes met and Dumbledore could sense the mockery in those pale blue eyes before they shifted away.

What an arrogant bastard!

* * *

 

"...hence, let's begin the Sorting."

Grindelwald had read about this in _Hogwarts: A History_ so he knew what to expect. Hogwarts had four houses, each represented by a colour and an animal, thought to be emblematic of its four founders. As the enchanted hat sang on, Grindelwald thought of the disparaging look the redhead had given him and laughed silently. A pompous idiot. 

As the hat slipped over his eyes, Grindelwald was still lost in his thoughts.

"Oh? Thinking of someone, eh?"

"Just an inconsequential person. By the way, I'd appreciate if you didn't read my mind."

"You're making my job very difficult for me then. How else-"

"Slytherin. That's the obvious answer, isn't it? Or Ravenclaw. Knowledge and all, blah, blah, blah."

"But you have a courageous nature as well, yes, something of the impulsive in you-"

"I'm a Grindelwald. We were not born to be fools."

"Ah...the dynastic pride? Of a pure-blood lineage?"

"I don't care about that. Plenty of them can't even wave a wand."

"I see...well, if you're sure then better be...HUFFLEPUFF!"

While the Hufflepuff table erupted in loud cheers, Dumbledore laughed so hard he almost fell to the floor. 


	2. Now that I'm around, he can only be Number Two.

"...this is where you'll be sleeping. Um, feel free to approach me, or any of us really, if you have any questions, where to go..."

This cannot be happening. I should have set that damn Hat on fire!

"...hours are. Dinner's in the hall, as you already know, and we sit with our houses..."

Was it my fault? Did I not think enough evil thoughts? Or knowledge? Trivia? Was that it? He knew that piece of clothing could read minds! So why hadn't I...

"...I'm not all that good at homework, but, um, I could tutor you if you need help, um, catching up on things. The term has just started though, so it shouldn't be..."

Grindelwald had his head in his hands. He had gotten through dinner in a stupor, barely registering the taste, and actually he had no idea where he was right now. He only knew there was a ringing voice in his head and the drone of somebody talking in the background and why the hell was I sorted into Hufflepuff of all places? There must be a mistake! Wait, did the Hat accept second tryouts? 

Unbelievable!

"...Um, what is?"

Grindelwald blinked. He had shouted that last word aloud. The boy standing in front of him was tall and gangly, long-limbed and with sandy coloured hair. There was a doe-like quality to his green eyes which were now looking at his with an emotion suggesting concern for his mental wellness.

"I...Salamander?"

A dusky rose spread over the boy's cheeks.

"I-it's Scamander."

"Right. Salamander. Do you think it's possible that the Hat has made an erroneous sorting?"

Scamander gave a nervous laugh.

"I hope not. Because that would be awkward for us. Both. Right now."

"But just maybe...? Look," Grindelwald moved closer to Scamander. "No offence. But I'm not a good fit for this house."

"Why?" The boy narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Hufflepuff takes in the hardworking and the loyal-"

"Yeah. That's exactly why. You see, I...can't live up to those expectations."

The two boys locked eyes for a good five seconds before Scamander broke into a laugh.

"That's what they all say at first. Don't worry, you'll fit right in." He patted Grindelwald gingerly on his shoulder, silencing his protests. "Get some sleep. It's your first day tomorrow.

Done, he turned around and slipped beneath the sheets, turning off the lights, leaving Grindelwald standing, mouth agape. 

* * *

Grindelwald stepped out of Headmaster Spinel's office, his footsteps heavier than ever.

"I'm afraid the Hat's decision is final."

The bed was lumpy, the pillows flat. He felt sore all over. Outside, the first golden rays of the sun was just peeking out behind the clouds.

"Hey! Gellert!"

The boy from last night...Salamander?

Panting, the boy grabbed Grindelwald's hand and began pulling him. 

"Do you mind? If I call you that, I mean."

"Call me what?"

"Gellert." Scamander's eyes were averted.

"Anything. If you wish."

"Okay." Grindelwald could hear the smile in his voice. "Where were you this morning? I woke up and you were gone."

"I was...out strolling. The castle grounds."

"Ah..." Scamander cleared his throat. "Next time, maybe you can tell me beforehand? So, so I'll know where to find you. Because I'm your buddy."

Buddy? Grindelwald looked at the boy beside him. 

"Um, this is what Professor Rosier asked me to...show you around the school...he's our the Hufflepuff Head, you know?"

At the mention of Hufflepuff, Grindelwald's spirits sank to the bottom of his shoes. Strange how he never realised just how much the Sorting meant to him. Until now.

"Hey, David! Over here!"

A mousy looking girl was signalling to them. A crowd had gathered around a shabby looking hut surrounded by green pastures. Scamander dragged Grindelwald over.

"Care of Magical Creatures is the first lesson for today. You'll see, it's the best." Scamander whispered.

Grindelwald looked around him. They were standing near the edge of the forest and he felt more alone than ever. With the exception of Salamander, everyone else around him looked unfamiliar even though they all belonged to Hufflepuff. Including me. 

He groaned inwardly.

A group of students appeared on the horizon and were rapidly approaching the Hufflepuffs huddled around the hut. Their voices were so loud, Grindelwald could hear them before he could see them.

"That...will be the Gryffindors."

The what? Grindelwald looked at Salamander.

"We have double classes. With the Gryffindors."

"Scamander." A boy with plain features was suddenly in front of them. "Aren't you going to introduce your friend here?" Grindelwald narrowed his eyes.

"Um, Elphias, Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert, this is Elphias Doge, who's-"

"Elphias Doge." He extended a hand towards Grindelwald.

"Gellert...Grindelwald." Doge withdrew his hand before he could take it and Grindelwald was overcome by a sudden urge to punch his face. 

"I forgot. We don't make friends with Durmstrang students." Snickers from the Gryffindors, while the Hufflepuffs looked warily on.

"Doge." A smack to the back of his head. "Look how upset you're making our...friend." Albus Dumbledore, a good head taller than Doge, appeared from behind. He smirked at Grindelwald.

Ignoring him, Grindelwald turned away and began heading back to the castle.

"Already leaving? Class hasn't started, you know."

"I don't need to attend to score higher than you."

A collective "Ooh" from the Gryffindors, and more laughter.

"You're talking to the top student of our cohort!" Doge snickered.

"Now that I'm around, he can only be Number Two."

"Big words. But can you back them up? Or are they as hollow as your looks?"

Grindelwald snapped. Whirling around, his want was halfway out before Scamander was between him and Dumbledore.

"T-that's not a very nice to say." Scamander's voice was soft but sounded piercing in the silence.

"What now, Scamander? This doesn't concern you," Doge hissed.

"Neither does it concern you."

"David Scamander! Back off now or-"

"Doge. He's a prefect and so am I. I'm asking you to step back now."

"But, Albus-"

Dumbledore looked at Doge. His eyes were a tepid blue but something in them made Doge hesitate. He hated it when Albus was acting up. It made him feel insecure, that there was something in his friend's character that he couldn't get, no matter how many years of friendship they had. 

"What's going on here?"

A gruff looking man wearing a tank top and cargo pants was walking towards them. Two dead turkeys were slung over each shoulder and his laced-up boots were caked in mud. Bits of unshaven hair dotted his face and his unkempt look had a feral quality that reminded Grindelwald of a cat.

Of the lion sort, that is.

The gamekeeper?

"Professor Rosier."

Rosier? The Head of Hufflepuff?

Rosier gave a sweeping look to this students before running a hand through his unruly hair and sighing.

"You know how bad I am when it comes to disciplining..."

"Professor. Can we start?"

"Yeah, yeah. Albus? Maybe you would like to demonstrate the proper way to de-feather these birds here..."

After taking attendance, Rosier began the lesson proper.

"This semester we're learning about the elusive kitsune, also called the Japanese fox spirit. Can anyone tell me why they're elusive?"

A hand shot up in the air.

Rosier sighed.

"Yes, Albus?"

"Because throughout the centuries, they were hunted nearly to extinction for their tails."

"Correct. And what are some of the common superstitions surrounding a kitsune's tails?"

"They are believed to grant wishes and it's considered good luck to spot a kitsune."

"Ten points to Gryffindor. Very good, Mr. Dumbledore. Even though these foxes are highly prized, they are also viewed as rather fearsome creatures as well, particularly in some culture. Why is this so?"

"They are notorious shapeshifters, able to mimic a person's demeanour right down to the nuances of their voice. In China, as well as India and Japan, there have been cases recorded of kitsune posing as beautiful courtesans in order to gain political favour and power behind-the-scenes, leading to several puppet regimes, which ultimately caused their downfall. They have also committed atrocities while in disguise, such as slicing the soles of men and boiling inmates alive. One even ripped a human heart out just to examine it."

"Very good. Take another ten points, Albus. Well? Is he the only one who has been doing his readings?"

Scamander had been mumbling under his breath the entire time Dumbledore was talking, and Grindelwald caught some of the words faintly.

"...they only transform into the beholder's object of desire and wouldn't do anything outside of character."

"How do you know that? I've read the textbook, and it wasn't mentioned." Grindelwald whispered. 

"I-I've seen one..."

"Where?"

"In the forest."

"Aren't students prohibited?"

Scamander did not answer.

"..."

"...Gellert? Mr. Grindelwald?"

The entire class was looking at them both.

"I'm sorry Professor, I didn't quite catch that."

"Where are kitsunes usually found?"

"Inhabiting mountainous areas with bamboo forests. They are known to create distractions in the form of bluish-green flames, "fox fires", to trick unsuspecting travellers. Kitsunes feed on a steady diet of wild fowl and their eggs."

"Excellent. Ten points to Hufflepuff. Well, the turkeys are plucked, so let's see if we can't spot one..."


	3. Dearest A. Dumbledore.

Class ended without even a glimpse of the kitsune.

The students trudged back along the path to the castle, a light drizzle beginning to fall. Professor Rosier had assured them that it was normal to not see it on their first try; they would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of its tails, and the number of wizards and witches who could claim to have seen a kitsune - well, they can be counted on one hand.

Dumbledore shivered as a droplet of rain slid down the nape of his neck.

He hated the rain, and more than once, he had been woken up by the crash of thunder in the middle of the night. 

"Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Hmm...?"

The class broke out into laughter.

A slim lady with blonde hair neatly pulled into a bun was staring at him. Her lips were a thin line. 

"A rare moment of distraction for our star pupil."

"I'm sorry, Professor Rieper." Dumbledore grinned. "I was just thinking of my term paper..."

"No doubt." Professor Rieper had a wry smile on her face. "Now, would you be so kind as to tell us..."

The rest of Defence Against the Dark Arts passed by in a blur. Outside, the rain had stopped but grey clouds the colour of dirty laundry loomed menacing and huge over the castle. The air felt heavy and Dumbledore's spirits were not much better.

Although half of his mind was wandering about, he managed to complete the day's lessons in his usual swift, efficient and seemingly effortless manner. The Gryffindors were a lively bunch, jostling and teasing each other as they made their way from class to class. It was times like these that he was exceptionally grateful for Doge. He was like a ball of molten sunshine, nothing ever seemed to dampen his spirits.

He felt a jab to his ribs.

"Look at that smug face, will you?"

It was the blonde Durmstrang student with the strange name. Gellert Grindelwald. Dumbledore need only hear a name once to remember it for life.

"Challenging you of all people. Ha! Doesn't look like much of a scholar, eh?"

"Looks can be deceiving, Elphias."

"Bah! Strutting about like he owns the place...and that lanky Scamander too. Never pinned him down as much of a talker, but more the wallflower kind..."

Dumbledore wrinkled his nose. He hadn't expected David Scamander of all people to stick to such a character. Like what Doge said, Scamander didn't particularly stand out in any memories of the past five years at Hogwarts. He was a shy kid, always preferring to stand in the shadows of others, and Dumbledore had never once seen him looking straight into the eyes of anybody, even during conversation. To be honest, he was surprised that he was even nominated to be a Prefect, like himself. 

"Excuse me? Albus...Dumbledore?" 

A girl with a silver ribbon in her hair was looking around furtively. There was an envelope clutched in her hands.

Dumbledore smiled at her. Doge shook his head while the surrounding Gryffindors whooped and cat-called.

"Way to go, Albus!"

"You lucky bastard. Don't mind me, see you at dinner." 

The girl turned a pretty shade of pink. Her jet-black hair really brings out the colour of her eyes, thought Dumbledore. 

They stood there for a few seconds in silence after Doge and the Gryffindors' departure. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"If you like, perhaps we could go someplace quieter."

"O-oh, yes! I mean," The girl averted her face. "That would be great."

They walked down the hallway together.

A group of sixth years were heading in the opposite direction, and as the two groups passed each other, one of them hissed in a barely audible whisper:

"How's your father, Dumbledore?"

A flash of lightning illuminated the smile on Dumbledore's face.

"I heard Mr. Fawley is entertaining some visitors from the Ministry? Although I'm not sure if "entertain" is the right word..."

His reply wasn't loud but judging by the livid expression on Barron Fawley's face, it was safe to say he heard it.

"Are you alright...? You look kind of pale." They were right in front of an empty classroom and the girl was looking concernedly at him.

"It's no problem at all. I just don't deal very well with thunderstorms."

Inwardly, he was struggling to contain his mounting irritation at Barron's provocation earlier and also this girl here who was keeping him from dinner and a good bath.

"I-I see. Why-"

"Is there something you want to say to me, Miss...?"

"Violet! That's my name..."

"Nice to meet you, Violet."

His smile almost caused her to faint, the colour spreading to the tips of her ears. 

"I'm an underclassman of yours, and I just...Please read this!" She shoved the envelope into his hands. "You don't know who I am, you'd probably never seen me around, but I've heard of you, you're so cool, everyone says you're so smart and hand-I think so too, I-"

"Thank you, Violet." His smile became warmer. "I appreciate that."

"No, thank you for listening to...No, please read that, and-"

With a face bright as a tomato, the girl broke off mid-sentence and disappeared from sight. 

After making sure that she was truly gone, Dumbledore turned the letter around in his hand.

_Dearest A. Dumbledore._

The envelope gave off a faint lavender scent. 

" _Incendio_."

He dusted the ashes off his palms and was about to head back to the dining hall when something caught his eye. 

These were the classrooms located nearest the forest. There, right at the edge of it, something was staring at him. 

No. Not something.

Her.

It was her, he'd recognise those eyes anywhere.

And yet-!

The breath caught in his chest and he felt the world spinning.

Just then, a massive thunderbolt cracked across the sky, almost splitting it into two.

* * *

Grindelwald was drawing the curtains shut when the abnormally loud thunder struck. Shocked, he almost ripped them off the rail. All of a sudden, big, heavy droplets pelted onto the window with such force until Grindelwald wondered if they will hold.

He sighed. How different his circumstances were right now. Back at Drumstrang, each boy had a room to himself and from the window one could see the vast expanse of snow-capped mountains all around. It was winter year-long there and during the summer months, sometimes the ice thawed a little and tiny grasses and flowers would sprout...

Now he was sharing a room with Scamander in some dingy basement next to...wine storage? The room smelled permanently like an extension of the kitchen, and the windows provided only a view of the school fields.

Actually, he could overlook the size of the bed, even the fact that he had to share a room, or the claustrophobia-inducing level of the ceiling but...why did everything have to be done up in yellow?

The bed spreads to the curtains to the rugs and the tapestries were in a shade of vomit-yellow. Grindelwald grimaced. He felt he was being smothered in yolks. And the coziness of the place. Cushions cover every inch not carpeted and a sandy yellow wallpaper was plastered on all four walls.

Grindelwald was still shuddering when Scamander returned from the shower, his skin pink from the hot water, a towel draped across his shoulders.

"Have you done-"

"I did." Grindelwald interrupted, turning back to face the windows. Outside was so dark they reflected his face instead. 

"Then, what about-"

"Yeah. Completed."

"..."

Silence.

"...I've always been told that I'm a little weird."

Grindelwald spun around, only to see that Scamander's back was turned to him. 

"Unsociable too. I just can't seem to know what to say in situations. So I don't say anything. And somehow," A laugh. "That's a wrong answer too."

What on earth had prompted Mr. Hufflepuff to launch into this emotional exposition? Frantically, he searched his mind for something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate for the situation at hand.

"...you rub your nose when you're nervous?"

"W-what?" Scamander was looking at him now with an air of embarrassment, and Grindelwald thought his eyes reminded him of a sunlight dappled forest. "I..."

Quickly, Grindelwald turned away, making an exaggerated show of stretching himself and yawning.

"I'm going to turn in first."

"O-okay. I'll be done in a while, have some work to finish..." Scamander mumbled. 

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Grindelwald closed his eyes and pulled the sheets over himself, falling asleep to the soft light of a lamp turned low, and the soft scratching of a quill against the muffled backdrop of the storm.


	4. An arm shot out and pulled Grindelwald backwards so forcefully he almost slipped on the steps.

_Dear Papa,_

_Life at Hogwarts is just great. I got myself Sorted into a House, and am now getting to know the others. I am confident we will get on very well._

_Accommodations_ _are comfortable, if not a little...rustic, but the fire is warm and the food not unlike what our servants eat back at home - of the nourishing and hearty variety. No coquilles Saint Jacques or escargots here, but we both knew what we were getting ourselves into..._

_The teachers are generally kind and keep their distance. I don't think there's any cause for worry over any repeat of Durmstrang. The weather's a little harder to get used to and on balmy evenings I find myself thinking of the vineyards back home. We are, however, just entering the rainy season, so the temperatures have dropped a bit lower than usual._

_Lessons are easy, to say the least. I expect I shall be placed at the top of the level again but, to be frank, I'm not particularly motivated to do so. The standard here is a far cry from Durmstrang. They are learning counter-spells in Defence Against the Dark Arts which we covered back in Year 3. We're just getting started on mock duels too. I don't want to stand out, so I've been playing along with the lessons but even so, I don't suppose I hide my boredom very well. Between you and me, I have taken to practising more advanced spells in the empty classrooms during the evenings._

_I've also seen the son of one of your acquaintance, Mr. Fawley, as you have said I would. Barron Fawley has invited me to a party of some sort taking place next month and out of politeness, I agreed. Curiously enough, even in such a backwater school, I'm surprised at the number of Ministry offsprings attending. Pure-bloods are significantly lesser and like Barron Fawley, tend to keep more to themselves._

_The rest of the school seem to rally around one individual, who has no doubt let such an "honour" get to his head. This person has no redeeming qualities to speak of except his face, which can pass off as handsome in an undiscerning place as Hogwarts, but which back in Durmstrang would simply be passable. He's arrogant and has the teachers wrapped around his finger, and what little intelligence he possesses has let him to view himself as several notches above others. Possibly the most annoying part is that he actively strives to maintain an image of humility. I avoid him whenever possible, unfortunately we have a couple of classes together. Rumour has it that he has a somewhat colourful history before entering Hogwarts and I admit, lured by the promise of information, I accepted Barron Fawley's invitation._

_How are you and everyone else doing? Send my regards to them and know that I miss Rochester and all of you everyday. Are the Thestrals doing well? I know it's still a month and a half away, but I'm writing to tell you I'll be back for Christmas._

 

_With all my love,_

_Your son,_

_G._

* * *

The school owl nipped Grindelwald affectionally on his finger and flew away with his Rochester-bound letter. 

If I were an owl, could I reach home in a day? 

He had tried to downplay the more miserable aspects of school but he knew father would be concerned. 

A familiar redhead was standing next to a large barn owl as Grindelwald made his way down the spiral stone steps of the Owlery. Pretending not to notice, Grindelwald kept his head bowed and continued his descent.

Was he...troubled? A thin notecard was almost crushed in his hand and there was a faintly bitter, almost mocking smile on Dumbledore's face. 

"Not even a hi?"

"...you're mistaking me for someone else."

An arm shot out and pulled Grindelwald backwards so forcefully he almost slipped on the steps.

"What the fuck-"

"I'm right. It is you."

Grindelwald stared at him in disbelief. 

"You are crazy."

He tried to leave but was immediately turned around by Dumbledore.  

"What the fuck's your problem?"

"I don't like the way you look at me. Or the way you talk to me."

"I. Don't. Give. A. Shit. You stop me one more time," Grindelwald pointed his wand at Dumbledore's throat. "I don't mind sending you to the hospital."

Dumbledore laughed. It sent tiny chills down Grindelwald's spine. They had not taken to each other, and have had their fair share of antagonising each other over the past weeks, but never had Grindelwald confronted him in so direct a manner. Something seemed off, somehow. 

Did it have anything to do with the notecard he received?

About the father in Azkaban?

"Don't look so mad. I was just joking around."

Dumbledore released his arm. Grindelwald winced. He had gripped him so hard he had no doubt the redhead had left marks. 

Grindelwald lowered his wand and glowered at him. 

"You...aren't your usual Prefect self."

Dumbledore paused before bursting out into laughter. This time, he sounded no different from his usual self.

"I have no need to pretend to you. You know what I am."

"A shameless, narcissistic, asshole?"

"Coming from one, I'm not sure how much I should credit your astute observation."

"Just let me go already. There's no else around, and I won't tell anyone how mentally unsound you are, or that you received a letter from...Azkaban..." 

He had gotten a glimpse of the logo embossed on the dove white card still clutched tightly in the Prefect's hand and had uttered the word reflexively. Instantly, Grindelwald knew it was a mistake.

Dumbledore stiffened and whatever good humour he had left his body. A cold gleam came into his eyes, and they flashed in the semi-darkness like two daggers of blue ice. Grindelwald's chest felt tight, and the air around them thinned rapidly. Feathers cascaded down as the birds swooped from one perch to another, screeching, but they might as well be suspended in time.

"Go. Now. Before I change my mind. GET LOST!"

Startled, the owls rapidly flew out of the tower, shrieking for miles around.

Without wasting another second, Grindelwald pushed the taller boy out of the way and hurried down the steps, two at a time.

* * *

Predictably, Dumbledore was absent for the next three days and when he walked into Potions one sunny Wednesday morning, it was almost as if the incident at the Owlery never happened. Grindelwald averted his eyes and bent down over his notes. 

"Ahem." The Potions Master, an elderly wizard by the name of Tobias, stooped over his lectern, peering at his students behind his pince-nez. "Quiet please. Good to see you, Albus." Dumbledore nodded and sat down beside Doge at the back of the class. "For the next few weeks, we will be learning how to brew Amortentia, as well as its antidote..."

Before Professor Tobias could finish his statement, both the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs present erupted into excited squeals and giggles, their hyperactivity bubbling over.

"Settle down! Judging by the response, I'm sure all present are well-informed on the properties of Amortentia?"

"It's...the strongest love potion in existence, sir." A Hufflepuff girl whom Grindelwald had seen in the common room, but still don't know the name of, answered. 

"That's correct, Ms. DeLilo. Now, Amortentia is a highly prohibited substance. Feeding it to someone without their consent is a criminal act subject to indictment and punishment." Gasps from the girls was met with a stern look from Professor Tobias. "Unfortunately true, Ms. Bell, Ms. Hudson, and Ms. Post. However, for the purposes of this class, and this class only, I've taken the liberty to inform Headmaster Spinel, who has kindly consented to look the other way." A twinkle in his eyes. "I believe his exact words were: 'We were all teenagers once.'"

Professor Tobias waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.

"In the spirit of promoting inter-House harmony, for this assignment, I will be splitting you up into Gryffindor-Hufflepuff pairs. The goal is to reach a mutual understanding with your partner and brew a vial of Amortentia successfully. Let's get started then. Ms. Hudson, Mr. Lively. Next..."

He went down the list. Scamander ended up with a blonde Gryffindor and left to sit beside her.

"Good luck," he whispered before going away. Grindelwald thought Scamander looked nervous. Potions was never his best subject and now he had to pair up with somebody he had barely exchanged words with.

"Ah, the new student...Mr. Grindelwald? How are you finding Hogwarts so far?"

"Quite enjoyable, sir."

"Good, good. Let's see...perhaps Mr. Dumbledore would like to guide you for this assignment?"

"I'll be glad to, sir." Dumbledore smirked. 


	5. Because apparently the sole requirement of getting into Gryffindor is to be a loudmouth.

"I-I can't believe Professor Tobias would, would-" Scamander sputtered.

"Neither do I. Calm down, Salamander." Grindelwald strode into the dining hall, wiping his potion-streaked hands on his robes.

"Doesn't he know you guys are rivals?"

Rivals? Hardly. Inwardly, Grindelwald laughed to himself.

"I don't think teachers are particularly interested in our personal squabbles, especially when they are as one-sided as this one."

"But that potion exploding in his face? That was awesome." Scamander couldn't stop smiling. "You had something to do with that, right?"

Grindelwald could see that Scamander was especially worked up right now and probably wouldn't stop talking until dinner arrived.

He grinned. He was in pretty good spirits himself.

Suddenly, a girl stuck her head between the both of them.

"Right? I knew German Boy here had rigged the cauldron!"

It was the girl who had answered Professor Tobias's question on Amortentia. Something DeLilo?

"Hey, Serena."

"Hi, Dav. Now tell us - how did you get it to explode like that?"

The Hufflepuffs around the table were gathering beside them now, hungry for details. 

"I-"

"Partner. I see you're doing fine."

A group of Gryffindors with Dumbledore at the front was making their way to the Hufflepuff table, causing some of the first years to stare and gasp, mouths hanging open. His red hair was slicked back with water. Behind him, Elphias Doge was wearing an expression of utmost distaste, as were some of the Gryffindors, but Dumbledore held out a hand when Doge opened his mouth.

"Must have been funny, switching the ingredients."

Grindelwald put on a face of innocence. 

"Not my fault you can't tell the difference between moonstone and quartz."

"They were ground up into a powder." Dumbledore glared at him. "You know quartz is reactive to rose thorns!"

"Relax, partner. Professor Tobias says this is just a practice for next week. Although, unlike somebody, I don't really have grades or a reputation to maintain."

"Durmstrang-" Doge began. Grindelwald turned onto him and continued:

"Is a school the likes of you will never be able to enter."

Appreciative hoots and laughter all around, some of them beyond the Hufflepuff table but not out of earshot. A pale, dark-haired boy walked right into the middle of their group, clapping his hands in a slow, methodical fashion. 

"That's right, Doge. Even if...you're a pure-blood." The boy sneered.

Barron Fawley and the Slytherins. 

"Dumbledore? Consider this a warning to keep your...pet...in check."

Dumbledore was between the both of them before Doge could respond. He looked from Grindelwald to the Slytherin, and a smile slowly spread across his face. 

"Barron. You a Hufflepuff now?"

"I'd rather be a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor. Save your breath, Dumbledore. Stop drawing attention to yourself if you know what's good for you."

"I'm not responsible for your insecurities, Barron."

"You watch your tongue, half-blood." Leaning in close, he whispered something into Dumbledore's ear.

The smile on Dumbledore's face did not change even as Barron turned around and walked off, laughing. 

For a moment, Grindelwald was reminded of that day at the Owlery.

* * *

"I think David Scamander is kinda cute, don't you?"

"But he's a little weird."

"Uh huh, yeah. Like weird weird. I was just getting to that. Otherwise, he would be sooo hot. With the perfect height and all."

"I find his manner very refreshing." A girl said quietly.

The two girls whipped around to look at her. 

"Oh my god. No. Way."

"Amber Hudson. You have a crush on David Scamander?"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"I heard that." Doge turned around to glare at the Gryffindor girls. "How could you girls have so little loyalty?" He shuddered and placed his head in his hands. "There are plenty of nice Gryffindor guys around, but you have to go and choose a Hufflepuff..."

"Excuse me?" Cathy Post was staring daggers at him. "Haven't you heard of the phrase 'Love is Blind'? Besides, what has this got to do with loyalty anyway?"

"Everything!" Doge slammed his cutlery on the table, incredulous. "Don't you see? Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are officially rivals now! Which means it's considered traitorous behaviour of the highest order to be dating one of them!"

"Elphias Doge! You are out of your mind!"

"I've never said anything about dating..." Amber muttered, cheeks flushed.

"But you're thinking of it, aren't you?" Seeing Amber remain silent, Doge groaned and nudged Dumbledore. "Albus," he whined. "Say something. Two of our prettiest too..."

Dumbledore swallowed his last mouthful of pot roast and smiled.

"If I had to choose, I think Grindelwald looks better than Scamander."

This remark earned appreciative squeals from the girls while Doge stared at him in disbelief. 

"Some help here! Thanks a lot."

"Help? For what?" Amos Lively piped up from the other side of Dumbledore.

"Oh, piss off, Lively. You're the second handsomest after Albus. Meanwhile, I haven't even touched a girl's hand before!" Doge sobbed.

As the table erupted into laughter, Dumbledore mulled over Barron Fawley's words.

_"You wouldn't be so smug if some of your insecurities were to get out, would you?"_

* * *

"Lively, refined peppermint oil, not mint." Professor Tobias stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Grindelwald. Mr. Dumbledore. It's touching to see both of you getting along like a house on fire. None of last week's mistake again, I trust?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Won't happen again, sir."

"Good. Because the last time, it took a cleaning squad of ten house-elves to scrub the residue off the walls. And we really wouldn't want that to happen again, would we?"

"No, sir."

"One-off occurrence, sir. Would you kindly pass me the cut rose petals, Gellert?"

"My pleasure, Albus."

Nodding as the mixture turned a beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen in the cauldron, Professor Tobias clapped his hands together and called the class to attention.

"I'm pleased with the results. Most of your potions," and here, he eyed Doge and his partner, "have turned the right iridescent glow. We're now ready to move on to the next stage of the assignment - testing. Now, Amortentia takes on..."

"Cooperative, aren't we?" Dumbledore whispered.

"Regardless of what you may think, I don't actively seek trouble...or the limelight for myself."

"Forgive me for doubting the words of such a flashy person."

"...how am I flashy?"

"Your moody, devil-may-care demeanour? Makes one wonder why you got Sorted into Hufflepuff..."

Prickled, but trying his best not to show it, Grindelwald snapped:

"Because apparently the sole requirement of getting into Gryffindor is to be a loudmouth."

Dumbledore laughed.

"You forgot having a taste of fame as well."

"..."

"...as the effects of Amortentia take a few days to manifest themselves completely, evaluation will hereby take place next week. Okay, you may begin."

Professor Tobias concluded his instructions.

Dumbledore was just about to open his mouth when a paralysing numbness began to spread over his body.

" _Stupify_."

Grindelwald's wand was peeking out from beneath his sleeve.

"Sorry, partner." Smirking, he watched as comprehension then rage filled Dumbledore's face. "But I'm not going to be the one drinking this." Scooping a ladleful of shimmering potion from the cauldron, Grindelwald continued. "Say 'Aah'..."

AHHHHHHHHH!


	6. Rows upon rows upon rows of crystal chandeliers hung from every available inch of ceiling.

Grindelwald tugged self-consciously at his robes as he ascended the stairs to the seventh floor. He peeked furtively at the dark corners of the long corridor. Pale lamps glow dimly at regular intervals, lending Grindelwald the illusion that he was somehow transported to an ancient castle in Romania. Outside, dark clouds obscured whatever silver of moon was left and in the distance, an owl hooted, loud in the quiet night. 

Grindelwald pulled his cloak around himself tighter and glanced at the card in his hand:

THE SOCIETY OF SERPENTS

cordially invites the bearer to

_Dance in the Dark_

22:00 hours

Black-tie only. Bring a date if you must.

You know our rules. 

On the back of the creamy parchment was an enchanted map showing the exact location, which was not named but marked with the Society's logo, an intricately engraved Adder. The map showed Grindelwald as a pair of feet steadily making his way to the purported destination.

Whatever possessed Barron Fawley and his gang to come up with such an extravagant and over-the-top invitation? Society of Serpents indeed. It reminded Grindelwald vaguely of playing wizards and muggles. And to top it all off, black-tie? Really?

The sound of two people arguing was growing louder as he approached the entrance.

"-come in, right this second!"

"No, Brother, you don't understand! He will come, I'm sure of it!"

An exasperated sigh. 

"You're the one who doesn't get it. The party started an hour ago. If he had wanted to come, he would've already did."

"No! I gave him the invite, I'm sure of it, I'm sure..."

She was sobbing hysterically now, shoulders heaving from the strain. The dimness made it hard to distinguish their features, but a silver ribbon glimmered in her hair. Brother and sister were both dressed in finery and the man nodded as Grindelwald approached.

"The party's over there."

The sister looked up hopefully at the sound of Grindelwald's footsteps only to wail in disappointment. Hitching up her long dress, she ran off in the opposite direction.

"Violet! Excuse me..."

The brother tore off after his sister.

Grindelwald finally found the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and was contemplating it when a voice whispered "Invitation?" from behind him.

Jumping, Grindelwald handed his card over to a hooded figure who did not step out of the shadows. 

"Come with me." 

Together, they walked past the tapestry three times and just when Grindelwald thought that the Guide had lost his mind, a door appeared. 

"Wait." The Guide said as Grindelwald's hand reached for the handle.

Oh right. There was one last stupid rule. Trying hard not to roll his eyes, he took out a masquerade mask and slipped it on. Disrobing to reveal the immaculate suit underneath, Grindelwald pushed the door open and stepped in. 

He was almost blinded by the sight that greeted him.

Rows upon rows upon rows of crystal chandeliers hung from every available inch of ceiling. The lights were furthered reflected by the walls of mirrors down both sides of the room. Or more like hall. The room didn't seem to have an end and extended to infinity. On the marbled floor, dancers glided past in pairs, the girls with their flouncy ballroom dresses mostly in the darker shades of red, pink or black, the boys almost uniformly in white and black suits. A high-strung violin piece was playing in the background while house-elves weaved their way through the crowd with silver trays laden with small bites and flutes of champagne. 

Grindelwald didn't know what he expected. A darker, more sombre, mood, more fitting for a clandestine meeting? Black-tie indeed...

He spotted Barron lounging with a few others on some comfortable chairs in the corner, laughing at some joke, his mask in his hand. Grabbing a whiskey sour, he made his way through the crowd to him.

"Barron. Great party." Grindelwald removed his mask and tucked it neatly into his breast pocket.

An arched eyebrow from Barron dissolved into a cat-like smile. 

"What a coincidence. We were just talking about how you had it in for Blake here on your first day of school." 

He gestured towards a figure seated at the far end nervously sipping his drink, and adjusting this necktie. The rest chortled. 

"A disgrace to all pure-bloods. I wouldn't even have invited you, but out of respect for your mother...Anyway," Barron continued, turning to Grindelwald. "I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss Blake's love story."

"No...What exactly is the Society of Serpents?"

"The short answer? Us. The long answer is that we are a harmless, party-loving, tradition-respecting bunch who get together to arrange parties - such as this one - from time to time."

"Uh huh." Grindelwald didn't buy that for one second. "But...?"

"But?"

"There's always a 'but' in there sometimes."

Barron laughed.

"But, our membership is, unfortunately, extended only to people of the same strata. Specifically, birth strata. Birds of a feather and all that. The last thing we want is some taint on the family tree or bloodline...I'm sure you understand..."

"I can't say I do."

Barron's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Don't play the fool with me, Gellert Grindelwald. You were invited because you're descended from magic, like myself and everyone else here. No humans or muggle sympathisers here, of the Albus Dumbledore variety."

"Barron...?" An attractive brunette with glass green eyes leaned towards him. She was holding a pretty feathered fan. "Care for a dance?"

"Not now." He swatted her dismissively and the girl pouted before flouncing off in her scarlet dress.

"Speaking of which...you had something to tell me about Dumbledore?"

"That guy is trouble. Best to stay out of his way."

"What do you mean?"

"His father was sent to Azkaban for killing muggles. Now, you would think he would be proud, having such a father! My own father was positively delighted at the news. Muggles ought to know their place, and fear us, he said. And now Percival Dumbledore had gone and shown them! We were one of the few families who privately campaigned for his release you know. It's an absolute crime they locked him up."

Grindelwald waited for him to continue.

"Anyway, I find out we were both attending Hogwarts. First day of school, I came up to him and told him it was awfully brave of his pa to stand up to the filthy muggles like that, and that the Dumbledores have the full support of the Farrows and our only regret was that he hadn't taken out more of them livestock."

"So what happened?"

Barron looked the most livid he had all evening.

"He punches me right in the face and shouts at me not to talk of his pa in that way!" Barron smashed his glass of red wine on the table. A house-elf quietly cleared the mess and replaced it with a fresh one. "I told him he will live to regret this day. He was only afraid of admitting he agreed with me, deep in his heart. I know that now. But I despise cowards like him. But you're different."

"I don't think-"

"Don't think! Feel! Feel the anger in your veins, at wizards and witches being denied their rightful place at the top of the pyramid. My father knows your father, Gellert...the Grindelwalds are very respectable, yes...I'm sorry about your mother though."

"That's okay. She died before I was born."

"I'm sure she would have been an outstanding witch."

The frank sincerity of Barron's statement caught him off-guard. 

"The Society has been very nice to me, but I'm not sure-"

Suddenly, Barron leaped out of his armchair and pressed his face close to Grindelwald, so near he could smell the alcohol on his breath. Instinctively, he tried drawing back, but Barron's grip was like a vice.

"To be extremely honest with you, Gellert, having you amongst us would help tremendously. Some of our members," he looked towards Blake, "are...to put it bluntly, disposable. More trouble than they're worth. But you, Grindelwald, you are different. Your intelligence, your quick-wittedness, your resources, your lineage, and most importantly, your courage. Consider this an invite." Stepping back, he smiled. "No card this time."

* * *

Barron left for the dance floor after his little speech. Grindelwald was on his fifth scotch now, mulling over Barron's words, nestled in the comfortable sofa. This party was a recruitment drive and he had been lured here by what? The mystery of the Society? The promise of fun? Common manners to the son if his father's acquaintance? Dumbledore's past?

He frowned and drained his glass before slamming it on to the table, where it promptly broke.

"Sorry." he mumbled as a grumpy house-elf began sweeping the shards up.

His head was spinning. It had been a few days since he had tricked Dumbledore into drinking the Amortentia, yet nothing out of the ordinary had happened. If anything, the confrontations had become more frequent. While Scamander's partner had been all over him and couldn't be persuaded to keep her paws off, much to Scamander's annoyance and Grindelwald's entertainment, Dumbledore had been oddly...distant. It irritated Grindelwald that he had probably concocted a less than perfect potion. Impossible! Amortentia can be tricky, yes, but he had taken extra care slicing the rose thorns, and checked Dumbledore's ground moonstone.

He had even added rose petals to increase its potency.

A hushed silence fell across the room, and heads were turning around.

"Can I have another glass, please?" he said to no one in particular. Sure enough, his glass was magically refilled by the same grumpy house-elf. 

A disturbance was rippling through the crowd, but Grindelwald paid it no heed. He had to admit that Barron's argument was seductive. No doubt it was meant to be. He had no illusions of the true purpose of the Society - an informal group serving as a hunting ground for a bigger Alliance down the road. 

He was still immersed in his thoughts when a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Care to dance, Mr. Grindelwald?"

The blood in his veins froze and the thumping of his heart grew so loud his brain buzzed.

"...Scamander?" he whispered. 

Brilliantly green eyes the colour of a forest in Summer smiled at him behind the mask. 

"David? What," he tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. "What are you doing here?"

"Inviting you to dance." 

He gestured to the outstretched hand.

Grindelwald reached out and took it.


	7. Besides...with enough courage, you can do without a reputation.

It was only when Scamander's arm was firmly locked behind Grindelwald's back in the starting position for a waltz that the blonde began to realise that something was wrong.

"Nervous?" murmured Scamander, his lips almost brushing Grindelwald's earlobe. "Just follow my lead."

The dazzling lights and the variously coloured dancers was making Grindelwald light-headed. To steady himself, Grindelwald kept his focus on Scamander's face, the familiar yet oddly different pair of eyes trained like a leopard onto his. They were colder somehow, no longer forest-green but emeralds, their centers burning with a pale blue fire. His reddish hair was slicked back in a dapper sort of fashion, no, roguish seems to be more accurate...

"You look...debonair-ish tonight."

Scamander laughed and Grindelwald's heart caught in his chest.

"Is it my hair?" He raked a hand self-consciously through it and pulled Grindelwald even closer. "I just thought-"

Right before the first note sounded, a sudden realisation hit Grindelwald like a bucket of ice water, completely sobering him. Hissing, he pinched Scamander hard on his shoulder:

"Dumbledore? Is that you?"

Wincing in pain, he hesitated for a moment before answering and that was all the confirmation Grindelwald needed.

"No, why-"

"Stop it. What are you doing here - as Scamander?" Frowning, Grindelwald peered closely at Dumbledore's face. "Polyjuice?"

"Oops, music's started, so I guess you're stuck with me."

Holding Grindelwald tight in his arms, Dumbledore lead him expertly and swiftly across the dance floor.

"Don't smirk at me using Scamander's face! And let-go-of-me!" 

He struggled futilely against Dumbledore's grasp and was quite literally swept off his feet by the rhythm. 

Dumbledore pouted.

"What, you'll say yes to Scamander, but not me?"

"That's not the point, you fraud!"

"They wouldn't let me in otherwise. Thank Merlin's stars Scamander has enough pure-bloodedness in him."

"..."

"Oh, there's Mr. Farrow. Bet the both of you have been engaging in dirty talk of me all evening?" Dumbledore whispered, a devilish grin on his face.

Except it was really Scamander's face so the effect was uncanny, to say the least.

Grindelwald turned scarlet.

"No, we haven't! You think much too highly of yourself, Mr. Dumbledore."

An eyebrow shot up. 

"No? Then perhaps," he murmured while holding Grindelwald close, causing the latter to slant his face sideways. "Mr. Grindelwald could let me in to the details of your secret conversation?"

"It has nothing to do with you." Grindelwald answered coldly. 

Every time he tried to pull himself away from Dumbledore, the dance steps lead right back to him, causing the men to sway in a faintly see-saw manner.

"So cruel," a faint smile lingered on Dumbledore's face. "Keeping secrets from me."

His words were like fingers brushing open every pore in his body, right down to his toes. Grindelwald shivered.

"I don't think we're close to the point of being bosom buddies, so if you'll excuse me..."

Grindelwald tried to extricate himself, but at the last moment Dumbledore flung him out in a spin so fast and vicious, that Grindelwald could feel himself trying not to hurl. The dance floor became a whirl of lights and music and just when he thought he was flying over the edge, the hand that was still holding on to his gave him a pull and then he was folding, folding, folding, and then he was back in that hateful man's embrace. 

"You dance superbly."

They began a slow glide across the dancers, all of them twirling like great blooms of flowers.

"...I hate you." Feeling dizzy, his head pitched forward and rested on Dumbledore's chest. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Why aren't you nicer to me? Why didn't the Amortentia work?"

Dumbledore's body stiffened. 

"Do you want it to?"

"Of course...my reputation..."

"..."

"...to be seen dancing here with you, it's all gone," he moaned. "People will think I'm in love with you."

"In love with Scamander." Dumbledore corrected. "And no, why would they think that? It's just a friendly dance. Unless...your mind's filled with other more impure thoughts? Besides...with enough courage, you can do without a reputation." 

Grindelwald scoffed.

"Save your kind advice for yourself."

"You're not like me."

Azkaban flashed through Grindelwald's mind. He looked up to see Dumbledore staring down at him.

"What if I were to tell you right now that-" 

"Alright, Ladies and Gentlemen. The much-awaited finale of our dance is about to start." 

A witch wearing an absolutely stunning red dress with gold and black details was standing on a podium. Her voice echoed through the hall and pairs of twirling dancers paused mid-dance to look at her.

What now? thought Grindelwald. The announcement was so shocking that he had completely forgotten that he was still in Dumbledore's embrace. 

"Let us now invite Barron to say a few words and get this party started!"

Cheers erupted as Barron took the stage.

"Thank you, Melinda, for helping to organise this wonderful dance and everyone," A sweeping arm towards the crowd. "for making it memorable." More whistles. "Getting an invite is the hardest part, so congrats, all of you made it past the first round." Laughter. "Without further ado, let the party begin." 

He clapped his hands and black drapes fell from the ceiling, suspended in mid-air. Gone were the chandeliers, replaced instead by amber lights and a dark, haunting tango began to play. Everywhere, girls were shedding their long dresses for shorter hems and higher slits.

"Shall we?"

"Oh, no, I don't really think-"

But Dumbledore had already began dancing. Grindelwald was a bit at a loss here. He had learned ballroom dancing back home and at Durmstrang but tango felt like a whole other game. Whose rules seem to center on trying one's darnest not to step on your partner's foot. And it was infinitely faster than waltzing, and like all dances, tremendous coordination and synergy was required between partners. 

After stepping on Dumbledore's shoes for the umpteenth time, he said exasperatedly:

"Still think I'm a wonderful dancer?"

"Just...sublime."

Grindelwald rolled his eyes.

"How did you know I was here?"

"How do you know I'm here for you?"

"From the fact that you've only been dancing with me?"

"Then would you like to switch partners?" Grindelwald opened his mouth when Dumbledore cut in. "Even if your answer is yes, I won't let you."

Grindelwald could feel every inch of his face burning up.

"Could you stop blubbering these embarrassing lines!"

"Do you know," Dumbledore pulled Grindelwald upright and their eyes locked into a stare. "your skin's so pale, it looks really good when you blush, like a maiden in..."

"Albus Dumbledore! Are you drunk? Or having a fever?"

Grindelwald placed a hand on his forehead. No, it's the correct body temperature...

He removed his hand.

Dumbledore's face was turning pink.

"What...?"

"What are you touching me for?"

"Do you think I like it! To check if you have a fever, of course!"

"I'm fine!"

"But you're turning pink...wait...you don't mean...it can't be..." 

"Gellert Grindelwald!"

"...you're in love with me? The potion worked?"

"Shut up!" he pulled Grindelwald rather viciously around to face him, chest to chest, their noses almost colliding. "Is it that funny?" Dumbledore ripped off his mask.

Grindelwald laughed so hard tears almost came out of his eyes.

"No wonder! This silly disguise," he tugged at Grindelwald's lapels. "The cheesy lines, and this face..."

Scamander's face was staring at him, but it was Dumbledore's eyes, every expression of his outlined in the familar jaw, facial lines, eyelashes, eyebrows...

He reached out a finger and brushed his eyebrows lightly.

"You look just like him..."

Dumbledore reached out a hand and gripped Grindelwald's fingers. His blue eyes looked at him bewilderedly and tried to tug them away.

"Let me go-"

"No, I won't." Their noses almost touching, Dumbledore continued. "You think it's funny that nothing but you has been running through my mind all day and night? That you're the first person I want to see when I wake and the last person I think of before I fall asleep? You think it's funny," Dumbledore whispered. "that I think of doing all sorts of things to you-"

"Stop!"

"I won't. You think this is a joke, don't you-"

"You're the one who thinks using Scamander's face is a joke-"

"Well, then, since it's not me whom you hate so much, would you be able to kiss him, I wonder?"

"I..."

Their lips were almost touching when an abnormally large thunderbolt cracked overhead. Outside, the sound of rain falling could be heard. The dancers momentarily halted then resumed, the tango rapidly ascending in tempo and reaching fever pitch. 

All of the colour drained from Dumbledore's face.

There. At the edge of the crowd. In a dress of white.

"...Dumbledore? Dumbledore? Albus?" 

Someone was slapping his face, but she was approaching. 

"I-I've got to go."

"Wait-"

But he was gone, a shadow amongst the shadowy dancers still twirling continuously in the night.  


	8. What made it more exciting was that no one else seemed to know it.

"Okay...remember, whatever happens here tonight," the dark-haired man placed a finger on his lips. "stays here."

The twenty or so number of them huddled around the fireplace, their breaths forming tiny vapours in the air. All nodded their heads silently. 

"Okay...now...CHEERS!" Professor Rosier shouted and drained his mug of Butterbeer in one shot. 

Similar shouts erupted amongst the Hufflepuff, a few of them clearly so drunk they could hardly stand, causing them to drop their mugs onto the floor where it shattered and their bodies crumpling into the various sofas and armchairs packed into Rosier's tiny sitting room, just for this special occasion.

A bit of the sticky Butterbeer splashed onto Grindelwald's shoes and with an expression of disgust, he nudged the inert body further away on the rug.

"Hey, hey, somebody hold Travers."

Rosier snapped his fingers at two boys, who immediately went over to prop him up.

Travers was an exceptionally large boy who had just passed out and had begun snoring. 

"Somebody shut him up, he sounds like a herd of hippogriffs!" 

A chorus of drunken giggles, then somebody got so excited, she puked on the rug. With a wave of his hand, Rosier cleared the mess...and also set the flowery cushions on fire. 

"Oh dear, Aunt Augusta will never forgive me now..."

That was it.

Grindelwald placed his empty mug on a dresser, pulled open the door and strode out of Rosier's hut. 

It had all been the Professor's idea too. A pre-Christmas-cum-welcome party for Grindelwald, with an extra-special treat from the village of Hogsmeade. That turned out to be Butterbeer spiked with whiskey. As expected, the party soon became a drunken ruckus with that ruffian-looking, shady teacher acting like Robin fucking Hood to this bunch of Merry Men! 

"W-wait!" A hand reached out to clutch his arm. "Where are you going, it's snowing!" 

It was Scamander, rosy-cheeked and panting.

"I'm going for a walk. The noise is killing me."

"That's how they are, though..." Scamander smiled but Grindelwald had already continued into the rapidly darkening night. "Wait, aren't you cold? Slow down..."

"Cold?" His blonde hair was so fair, almost like it was giving off its own light in the darkness. "This is nothing. Back at Durmstrang, the snow was all-year..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Scamander had already turned him around and was now twisting a hideous scarf the colour of mustard around his neck, looping it tightly and snug.

"Your present..."

"For what?"

"For Christmas."

"I didn't get you anything though."

"That's okay."

They trudged through the thick snow in silence. The moon emerged behind its curtain of clouds and shone brightly, a bright pearl in the sky.

"You know...the other day, Barron Fawley came up to me, praising my footwork and saying he always knew I had it in me."

"..."

"He never even spoke to me after our first year. A niffler bit him-"

"You don't have to go out of your way for me." Grindelwald cut in. "You and the rest of the Hufflepuffs."

"I don't-"

"Oh really? Always treating me with kid gloves, I don't need your pity nor your kindness, not you following me around 24/7, not you explaining to the others how terribly sensitive I am and to understand just how hard the transfer has been for me - well, guess what, I'm just an ungrateful sod and no matter what you do or how long you wait, it will never change."

There was no trace of anger, no, rather, there was not a single trace of emotions in his words, and Scamander's heart clenched painfully in his chest. It was as if Grindelwald held his heart in the palm of his hand, and out of amusement, had just decided to squeeze it.

"You're the one who pities yourself. If anything, I feel sad you can't accept anyone's kindness despite being the kindest one of all." 

"Enough of this bullshit. A long time ago, someone said these words to me. But they were all-"

"He betrayed you...that's why you're in so much pain now."

"No, I never trusted him to begin with. Can't say it was unexpected."

"If that were true," Scamander's voice was quiet now. "then why are you crying?"

He watched as Grindelwald froze and slowly he became aware of the hot streaks of tears running down his cheeks. Time seemed to have crystallised in this moment and nothing exists outside of this silent, white world, a snow globe at the centre of which stood Grindelwald and himself.

Ever since he first laid eyes upon this curious specimen, Scamander was overwhelmingly hit by the realisation that he had chanced upon a wounded animal, a magical creature, a mythical beast. He could smell the blood in the air, almost taste it with his tongue, the familiar yet unique mix of disappointment and hurt shrouding this pale boy and tossing him into a frenzy at night, unable to leave him alone. 

What made it more exciting was that no one else seemed to know it. Albus Dumbledore, with his petty declarations and constant calculated teasing was obviously also interested in Grindelwald, but Scamander was not too sure how serious he was. It might just be another game, another target for Dumbledore, a genius bored out of his mind and with this own set of insecurities to tackle. 

Scamander was near enough to Grindelwald that their breaths mingled against the cold air. Tenderly, he reached out long, slender fingers to brush away his tears. 

"Oh, it stopped. The snowing. Come on, I want to show you something."

* * *

After walking for half an hour, Scamander stopped in his tracks causing Grindelwald, who was following him, to walk right into his back. 

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Put out your wand."

"And navigate by moonlight? I'm not you, you know."

"Trust me."

Sighing, Grindelwald undid the spell and all of a sudden, their surroundings plunged into darkness.

"Are you ready?"

"I can't see you."

"Here. Take my hand."

They stepped out from the cover of trees and emerged into a clearing.

Grindelwald's breath stopped for a second.

A small, frozen lake was right at its centre, its banks piled up with snow. Besides a clump of willows, the rest of its shores were barren. 

Except these were no ordinary willows.

Their trunks were ghostly white and its feathery tendrils were glimmering like countless Christmas lights. Several white shapes were huddled around the base of its trunk, and faint stirrings could be glimpsed.

"Are those...?"

"Unicorns? Yeah."

"There are unicorns here?"

But Scamander had already pulled off ahead, clicking his tongue in the same manner Grindelwald had seen Muggle horse-trainers do. One of the herd, the largest of them, began a low whinny, pawing the ground and snorting. He tossed his head, causing his silvery mane to shimmer like strands of stars.

Meanwhile, Scamander had somehow made his way to the unicorn, all the while shushing it as it stomped its heels. He reached out a hand gingerly, patting it first on the neck then on its flank. 

"Good, good." Turning to Grindelwald, Scamander motioned him to come closer. "Here, you pat him too." 

"Me?" Grindelwald hesitated. 

"I've known him ever since he was a foal," Scamander continued as the other unicorns began to gather around, nosing his robes for treats. "Now he's the leader of his own herd."

"Are you sure he won't kick...?"

"Not unless you kick him first." Grabbing Grindelwald's hand, Scamander placed it on the unicorn's hide, moving it in an up-and-down motion. 

"This feels like the best leather I've ever touched." 

To his surprise, the unicorn reared its legs up and would have trampled him had Scamander not placed himself between them at the last moment.

"Shh...it's okay. He's a friend. A friend." The unicorn nuzzled Scamander's cheek affectionally. "Unicorns are frightfully intelligent creatures, a result of their long history of brutality at the hands of wizards and witches. Their hairs plucked for wand cores, their hides as floor mats, heads taken for trophies, and their blood..."

"...has the power to save one on the brink of death, but in exchange, insanity..." 

* * *

After the herd left, they were seated side-by-side under the incandescent willow trees, their fingers almost touching. 

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought you might like to see some unicorns."

"That's not what I meant." He looked into Scamander's eyes. "Isn't this a special place to you? Why did you bring me here?"

Grindelwald's eyes right now were like vast fields of cornflowers under a summer sky, so hot he couldn't tear his own away from them.

"Because you're a special person to me." 

He leaned in closer to Grindelwald, and Grindelwald did not pull back and just when their lips were about to touch -

Both whipped out their wands at the same time, but it was too late. The intruder had already gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On vacation till 4 Dec. Updates resume 6 Dec.


	9. As he turned to leave, Doge paused. "Albus, you better be alive and kicking when I return."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update today. Down with the flu...

"I have heard a most interesting rumour,"

Dumbledore smiled at the dark-haired boy in front of him. The boy smiled back.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

"Please."

The boy slipped into the seat directly opposite his. It was an early winter morning and most of the Gryffindors were still holed up in their warm and snug tower underneath their bedclothes. There were a handful of students from the other houses milling about but none interested enough to cast an eye at the two peculiar figures at the Gryffindor table.

"David Scamander was at the Society's ball. Imagine that."

"Imagine that indeed."

"Rumour has it that he danced only with our new student that night, only to mysteriously vanish once the clock struck twelve."

"Quite the fairytale."

"But that's not what I came to tell you about. You see," Eyes the colour of amethyst peered into Dumbledore's own. "that was actually you, wasn't it?"

Dumbledore stiffened for just a fraction of a second but it was enough.

"So it really was you..." The boy threw back his head and laughed, loud enough to turn a few heads. "To thank you for being so cooperative, here's a tidbit, on the house - what do you think Scamander and our beloved new transfer student were up to alone in the Forbidden Forest at night? Just the both of them. And oh, the real Scamander this time, of course...Cheers, Al, don't look so glum." He stood up and walked off, waving as he went. "I expect we shall be talking again very soon..."

* * *

 "And there he goes."

Serene DeLilo whistled as the dark-haired boy strode out of the dining hall and made his way to the castle grounds.

"Wasn't he just talking to Dumbledore?"

Grindelwald stared after the hastily disappearing figure. 

"Sure was. No surprises there. Heard those two have a history." Serena yawned. "I'm starving. Let's go get some breakfast."

"A history? Of what?"

"I think they were from the same village or something." She scrunched up her nose. "Whatever. I'm going in to see if they have scones today."

"More like to scout if Lively's here."

Serena turned a deep shade of rose.

"Scamander!" She eyed the both of them. "Matching outfits. I see..." 

"This is just the Hufflepuff scarf, isn't it..." Grindelwald made to unwind it from his neck only to be met with opposition from Scamander.

"Keep it on, it's cold."

"I'm not-"

"Yeah, keep it on, G." Serena rolled her eyes. "Catch you boys later."

"Who were you talking about?"

"This guy from Ravenclaw, his name was Sei, I think..."

Scamander narrowed his eyes.

"You should keep away from him."

"Why?"

"Look," Scamander bent his face very near Grindelwald's. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Because you guys have a shared history as well?"

He could tell he had hurt him. 

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"...If it can be said that the ringleader of the Gryffindors is Dumbledore, then the Ravenclaw equivalent is Sei. You understand?"

"...that boy?"

"Last year, Dumbledore was placed top of his grade because that boy pulled a no-show for three of his OWLs."

"..."

"Now, come on, I can smell the pancakes cooking already."

* * *

"You'll be okay, Albus, won't you?" whispered Doge as the other Gryffindors raced ahead of him to stake out compartments on the Express. 

"And why wouldn't I be?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, all the while helping to carry Doge's trunks onto the train.

"I don't know man. You seem off lately."

"It's not like you to be worried, Doge. To be honest, seeing you like this," Dumbledore leaned in closer. "gives me the creeps."

"Fuck off! I'm not Blake. Speaking of which, I heard he's staying too."

Dumbledore sighed.

"I'll take care of it."

"Hey, Doge, you coming?"

"Yeah, gimme a moment!" Turning back to Dumbledore, he stared at him long and hard. "I just got a premonition of sorts..."

"I know, I know. Your great-grandma was a gypsy-"

"She's a seer, not a goddamn gypsy!"

"Same difference." Clutching Doge's head between his hands, Dumbledore continued. "Doge. I'll be fine. I give you my word. Now go on, before they make you sit with Amber."

"Oh, hell no!" As he turned to leave, Doge paused. "Albus, you better be alive and kicking when I return."

He disappeared into the recesses of the scarlet train. 

The next second, the shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express sounded and the train began to pull out of the station.

He hated to admit that Doge was right but lately the nightmares were coming more and more, each one faster and more furious than the last. Always, it was raining and soon, he was beginning to see her when he wasn't dreaming and not just on days where it rained either.

Another thing he was loathe to admit was that Sei's words had gotten to him as well, as he no doubt intended. As a result, he had redoubled his efforts to avoid any sight of Scamander or Grindelwald, but especially the latter. Unfortunately, the more he tried to avoid them, the easier and quicker he could spot them in a crowd or during class. They were always together now and people have begun to notice and of course, to talk. The pair have made no attempts to deflect the rumours, or at least on Scamander's part. It was obvious that Grindelwald was clueless to all the talking going on behind his back.

Regardless of his complicity, Dumbledore had made up his mind not to concern himself with Grindelwald any further. I have made quite the fool out of myself already. The last shrill whistle sounded and the train was almost completely out of sight now. A bell chimed for noon. Dumbledore turned - and felt his knees go weak at the sight that greeted him.

Standing some ways ahead, and equally surprised, was Grindelwald.

* * *

It was undeniable that their relationship had changed ever since that almost-kiss.

"I'll write."

"It's just a couple of weeks."

"I'll write." Scamander squeezed Grindelwald's hands and brought them to his lips, gently brushing them. Grindelwald swallowed. This was the closest he had attempted to reenact another kiss since that night. "A lot can change in a few weeks."

"Don't be silly. I'll be here, in grand ol' Hogwarts. What's there to worry about?"

The dim lights of the Hufflepuff dorms danced prettily in Scamander's eyes. The gentle rise and fall of their chests, their rhythmic breathing sounded loud in the silence.

"I guess I'm overthinking."

"Yes, you are." Grindelwald kissed him on both his eyelids. "Now finish packing. You have a train to catch tomorrow."

Scamander smiled.

"Could you do that again?"

And this was what he was remembering as the Express disappeared from view and the bell chimed, and all of a sudden, Dumbledore had appeared, standing in front of him. 

Like a dream.

Grindelwald was the first to speak as they made their way back to the castle.

"What are you doing here?"

"Same as you. Nowhere to go."

"You're avoiding me."

"I have no reason to do so."

"You're practically running right now."

"I simply have long legs."

"Does the sight of me bother you so much?"

A pause. 

"More than you know."

"You would like it if I were to never appear before you again."

"That is correct."

"You know, sometimes, I really wish I hadn't given you the antidote for Amortentia."

"You would like that, wouldn't you? Selfishly keeping me under your spell?"

There she was again. Just a glimpse, out of the corner of the eye, but it was her alright. And now, of all times.

"Yes, I would like that. I'm just a fucking selfish bastard, you see."

"Well, too fucking bad!" He hadn't meant to explode, but she was drawing nearer and he had to go somewhere far away she won't be able to follow. "It's never going to happen."

Now he was alone and he could feel the hallways getting colder as it always does when she gets nearer. Outside, the snow was falling thickly now, a heavy wool blanket across the grounds, and he felt so cold, so cold, the icy tips of her fingers brushing his cheeks, and lulling him to sleep.

"Brother..."

"Not now, Ari..." he moaned. "I'm sorry..."

"Brother...why did you leave me behind?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"...Dumbledore? Hey, hey!"

...?

"Wake up! Hey!"

Without quite knowing why, he reached up and pulled Grindelwald down. 

His grip was like a drowning man and he pulled Grindelwald with such force, his legs almost buckled. It was a Dumbledore he had never encountered before. Here was a man who was white from head to toe, shivering and icy to the touch. Not knowing quite what to do, he tried to hug Dumbledore in order to impart some warmth to his limbs but judging by the frenzied expression on his face, he doubted Dumbledore was in any sound frame of mind to appreciate the gesture.

Besides, he looked as if he had other intentions.

What these intentions were soon became clear. 

Dumbledore's lips crashed against his own with such force he was thrown back against the wall. His head ringing from the impact, Grindelwald gasped and Dumbledore took the chance to push his tongue all the way to the back of his throat, thoroughly tasting every inch of it. He tried to push Dumbledore back and out of his mouth but the provocation excited them both and soon, his own tongue was getting caught up in the back-and-forth tussle of wills. It was only until he felt a cold hand slipping into his pants that some remnants of his consciousness returned. 

They were doing it out in the open, in the corner of some random corridor of Hogwarts.

 


	10. "There's no meaning if it didn't come from him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early chapter...

It was at breakfast the next day that Grindelwald saw Blake approach Dumbledore at the Gryffindor table. Much to his surprise, Dumbledore did not come up with any excuses but merely left the table and followed him. Sufficiently intrigued and with plenty of time to kill, he decided to tail them. 

Staying out of sight but within earshot, he managed to follow the duo all the way to the greenhouse nursery. 

"Albus, you know I've always liked you."

"I know that, Blake."

"And I know you may not think of me the same now -"

"Blake. Look at me. Look. Listen to me carefully. You come from a very distinguished family -"

"I don't care!"

"That's because you can afford to. No matter what you do or say, you can't change the blood in your veins."

"Do you think...you're no good for me?"

"I know I'm no good for you. Your uncle said as much last Christmas."

"My uncle? When, when did he -"

"The distinguished ambassador himself. Paying me a special visit."

"I didn't know -"

"I know you didn't. But he's right. We had something between us. That's undeniable. Alas, that's all over now. I need you to recognise that."

Tears began to roll down Blake's cheeks.

"So you're saying...you won't fight for us?"

"That's what I've been trying to say, yes."

"Just because of some class divide?"

Dumbledore sighed. Why did he have to make this so difficult?

"Okay, I'm lying. The truth is," he angled his face so that Blake could see the tiny cut on the left corner of his lips. "there's somebody."

Grindelwald froze. He had an awful premonition of the words to come.

Clearly, Blake was much more taken aback than he was.

"See here? He's a real feisty one, even by my standards," he leaned in and whispered. "yesterday..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Blake slapped him hard across his face and stomped off. 

Another one to the face...

Groaning, Dumbledore stumbled off into the snow when he felt a sharp kick to the back of his knees.

"Fuck!"

"That's for lying that we're sleeping together!" Another kick. "And for being a bastard!"

"You already hit me yesterday!" 

_When I kissed you._

The unspoken words hung in the air between them, and both blushed, out of sight of the other. 

"S-shut up!"

Even in the cold, Grindelwald felt so hot he could melt. Luckily, his punch to the face yesterday had managed to knock Dumbledore out cold. What was he thinking, going off the rails like that? 

* * *

"How long are you going to continue lying there?"

"Until you showed yourself, I suppose."

Dumbledore sat up from the snow pile and shook the flakes off himself. He accepted the bottle passed to him and took a long sip.

"Congrats for pissing off the next Minister for Magic's favourite nephew."

"No way in hell they are appointing that sod."

"You heard it here first."

"...we haven't spoken like this in a while, Sei."

"...Al." He turned to look at Dumbledore. "Something's coming up. Things are changing."

"I know."

"They are going to make their move soon."

"Maybe it won't catch fire after all."

"This is not like those other times."

"Yeah? And whose side are you going to be on?"

"I haven't forgotten who killed my parents, Al."

"Maybe -"

"Or Ari."

"..."

"You can't keep running away like this, you know."

"I know."

"And you're finishing my cider."

"Oops. All gone. Sorry."

"He's your new obsession, huh?"

"Who?"

"Fine. Be like that. Want to know the reason he transferred here?"

"I do. But I want to hear it from himself."

"How gallant. I don't think I know you after all."

"There's no meaning if it didn't come from him."

"I wasn't joking about Scamander and him being in the Forest at night."

"I know. You never lie about such things."

"And yet...?"

"And yet."

"One of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed, Albus."

"Nobody has died from a heartbreak yet."

* * *

"Hm, we weren't able to secure the loan from the North Pole this year, eh?" Rosier stroked his chin with one hand, while the other crossed out a line on a checklist floating in the air. "What do you think, Mr. Grindelwald?"

Grindelwald forced a smile in his direction.

"Me, sir? I can think of nothing to replace the reindeers. Perhaps we should just cancel..."

"Out of the question. Are you saying," Rosier looked at him. "that a Durmstrang alumnus such as yourself, coming from a place covered in snow 365 days of the year, can think of no alternatives?"

A nerve twitched in Grindelwald's forehead as ten pairs of eyes swivelled around to look at him in the Hufflepuff common room. Striving to make his voice as calm as possible, he replied:

"Well, Professor Rosier. We can consider getting Thestrals..."

Rosier snapped his fingers.

"Excellent suggestion, my boy! Exactly what I myself was thinking!"

If I had known that staying for the Christmas holidays entails decorating, I would've begged Papa no matter what! Unfortunately, his father had written back weeks earlier that he had something urgent to settle over the holidays and thus wouldn't be at home, suggesting for him to remain at Hogwarts where "at least there would be some vestiges of festive cheer."

Festive cheer my ass!

Professor Rosier had insisted that all remaining Hufflepuff students gather around and decorate the common room.

"Don't we have house elves for that sort of work...?"

Grindelwald had asked, only to receive looks of indignation from the other Hufflepuffs.

"B-but...that's almost slavery."

They make your meals and your beds!

"How horrible..."

"I know, why don't we give them clothes for Christmas?"

"A most admirable sentiment, Ms. Lee." Professor Rosier had appeared behind her. "Although I'm not too sure Skulker in the kitchens would appreciate that gesture. Forcing them or tricking them into clothes can result in a fate worse than the abject servitude they are sworn to. Now," he flashed everyone a radiant smile rivalling even the sun. "in the spirit of Christmas, it is my sincere wish to see Hufflepuff united as one, striving towards a common goal. How does decorating our dorm sound?" 

And that's how everyone was suckered into decorating the dorms.

"Grindelwald?"

Trying his hardest to keep himself from punching the man in front of him, Grindelwald smiled.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Could you kindly go inform Headmaster Spinel that the reindeers would be replaced by Thestrals and to seek his opinion? Please?"

"Of course, sir."

"Oh, and do offer your help with decorating the big tree in the Main Hall, won't you?"

Having obtained Spinel's approval ("I don't see why that should be a problem, although some of us would probably see it as an invisibly-drawn sleigh,"), he exited the Headmaster's Office, only to bump into Professor Rieper, Head of Gryffindor. 

No, she had been waiting for him.

A curious choice for Gryffindor house. Ellen Rieper gave off the air of a mortician, despite being immaculately groomed. Silvery blonde hair was pulled back into an austere bun. Half-moon earrings dangled from each ear. Grindelwald remembered hearing she had married into the Upper Crust of society despite herself coming from a rather humble background. However, she was not to be underestimated. A Hogwarts alumnus, she graduated top of her class and had been Head Girl as well.

"Mr. Grindelwald."

He had the feeling she was sizing him up.

"Yes, Professor Rieper?"

"Do you know where I might find Professor Rosier?"

"He's at the Hufflepuff common room."

"I see."

Her lips pursed into a thin line. 

"Do you need me to pass a message?"

"No. That's okay. Goodbye, Mr. Grindelwald."

Gryffindors. A whole bunch of weirdos they are.

And speaking of which...

"So you're the help they sent?"

Seated on a ladder halfway the height of the great pine tree in the middle of the Great Hall was Albus Dumbledore smirking. 

"...I know you asked Professor Rosier to send me."

"Smart boy."

"What do you want from me?"

An eyebrow cocked up.

"Help with the tree. What else could I possibly want?"

"..."

 

 


	11. "You know...how should I say this? I'm sorry for that day."

"Childish."

Grindelwald muttered under his breath as he began sifting through the pile of ornaments at his feet.

"Did you say something?"

Grindelwald ignored him and continued sorting out the decorations. What was the theme even? He found various gaudy baubles of decades-old design, crumpled wire stars, a broken bell or two, tarnished angels and...gingerbread men?

"What's the look we're going for again?"

He called out to Dumbledore on the ladder.

"Uh...postmodern?"

Grindelwald sighed.

"Can't we do this the old-fashioned way?"

He was about to wave his wand when Dumbledore held out a hand.

"No can do. Orders from above, this year's tree is to be done by hand."

"...there's a wand in my hand."

Dumbledore climbed down the ladder and jumped the last few feet to the ground. He dusted his hands on his robes.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

Grindelwald eyes him.

"This tree looks like an absolute mess."

Dumbledore scrunched up his face.

"It's not that bad, it has my creative stamp all over it."

Grindelwald gave the tree another once-over. Scraps of yellowed tinsel dangled from some of the branches, together with bits of faded ribbon and some limp-looking ornaments.

"Unless the unspoken theme was thrift store Christmas..."

"Alright, I get it, I get it. I'll follow your lead, okay?"

* * *

"Never thought I'll live to see the day of Dumbledore cleaning ornaments with a toothbrush."

Rosier chuckled to himself as he munched the last bit of a salmon sandwich. 

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Ellen?"

Silently, the blonde figure of Ellen Rieper emerged from the shadows to appear by his side.

"I do. However, I can't say I'm much interested in the sight as you are."

"How cold, Professor. He is Gryffindor's only hope for Head Boy next year, you know."

"That matters not."

"One can only wonder what matters to Professor Rieper."

"Would you not reconsider your answer?"

"...you know I'm not a person to change my mind," he tore his eyes away from the duo to look at her. "nor give my word lightly, either."

Ellen stiffened. A familiar ache ran through her body but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

"They won't be asking again. Don't you see-"

"You intervened on my behalf? A foolish thing to do, Ellen, and absolutely futile."

Was that pity in his eyes? Suddenly, Ellen had the impression that she was once again a young student at Hogwarts, walking these very corridors, and travelling back in time to that fateful day where she had split some pea soup onto a senior's shoes.

Except it wasn't just any senior but the star of the school Quidditch team, the Ravenclaw Captain.

"Futile? Futile? What's truly futile is you casting your lot with the wrong crowd and throwing your life away as a result!"

Her voice was growing louder now but surprisingly, she found that she could no longer rein it in.

"The wrong crowd? Is that what you have, no, what you have all taken to calling them now, amongst other epithets?" He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "I wish the you back then could hear yourself right now."

The senior, no doubt not used to such gestures of affection, had shot her a look of pure death while his cronies around him had started chanting and exchanging crude looks at the junior girl from Gryffindor who had dare to soil their leader's shoes.

"Don't you know who I am?"

He had cornered her but she refused to back down. I'm the Headmaster's star pupil! 

"A prick," she had replied, and she had stepped on his toes hard before pushing her way through the crowd.

A hand had reached out to hold her arm firmly in place.

"Now, now, aren't you going to apologise? Both of you." The boy turned around to silence the Captain's protests.

Funny how people's voices remain the same when many other things have changed.

Rosier sounded the same as if he and the rest of them had never grown up from that point in time, simply growing further apart and away, even when she had given up her Ministry position to get closer to him, here he was right in front of her again just like many years ago, holding her arm, he had stood between her and the Captain.

"You would still be disappointed."

"True enough."

It was a nonchalant remark, but it still stabbed her with all the force of a dagger to the chest.

"Your family...they were very disappointed with your decision."

Rosier shrugged off the piece of news.

"I have been disinherited, it's not surprising. Rather than that," his voice sounded softer and kinder. "how's the Captain?"

She had to dig her nails into her flesh to keep from screaming.

"He's...fine. Doing well as always."

"That's good to hear. When are you guys trying for a baby, Ellen?"

The slap rang loud and clear in the empty hallway, yet one had to strain their ears to catch the words that followed.

"You're so cruel, John."

* * *

"Well, that was awkward. Do you think they've left?"

Dumbledore peered behind the tree, glancing at the direction of the corridor.

Grindelwald was busy untangling strands of red and golden tinsel. After much deliberation, he had decided to salvage as much of the decorations as possible and in a rare spirit of promoting inter-House harmony, the four primary colours - red, silver (because the tree itself was already green), gold (because he hated the regulation Hufflepuff yellow) and purple - would be used to do up the tree. Glass and china baubles had been selected for their vintage appeal as well as a bottle of magically preserved pixie dust they had found. Perhaps he should go for a classic star as the showstopper, it would simple enough to make it pulsate...

"You know...how should I say this? I'm sorry for that day."

"What day?"

"That day at the Owlery."

Grindelwald remained silent. He remembered Dumbledore shouting at him and the logo of the Azkaban prisons...

Thinking he hadn't remembered, Dumbledore continued.

"When I received a letter from Azkaban? And you were peeking-"

"I was not."

"-and so I shouted at you? I'm sorry, I was in a pretty bad mood that day." He rubbed a finger across his nose. "My dad, he died in prison. They sent me a letter to tell me."

The glass doe he was holding in his hand slipped and shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Here."

A tap of Dumbledore's wand magically restored the doe and he pushed it into Grindelwald's hand, who took it distractedly but continued staring at Dumbledore.

After a moment, Grindelwald replied:

"Thanks. I mean, I'm sorry to hear that."

"You're welcome. That's okay, you don't have to be. He wasn't exactly a saint alive."

Grindelwald recalled what Barron Fawley had said about the Muggle killer and once again, he was unsure how to continue this conversation.

"As I'm sure Barron would've told you by now. Though he probably left out how his jailing and my mentally unstable younger sister jointly sent my mother to an early death. But, hey, it did push me to strive for excellence." 

He picked at his Prefect badge.

"Don't you have any other siblings?"

"A younger brother. But he won't speak to me. Not in school or at home. This is my sixth Christmas at Hogwarts."

"At least you have each other. I'm an only child."

"Sure seems like it."

"What do you mean?"

Grindelwald's eyes flashed in the deepening dusk and Dumbledore couldn't help himself from thinking how very pretty they looked.

"You acting like a princess and all. Bet your manor looks like a fairytale. I live in a hut."

"A hut?"

"A hut. Bring you sometimes to experience the commoner's lifestyle."

"There are an awful lot around here."

"Commoners? Yes, your Highness."

"Well, this Highness commands you to start decorating this tree or we will never finish before supper."

"Roger that."

With a lazy flick of his wand, the various pieces arranged themselves neatly and artistically on the tree.

"Whatever happened to doing things by hand?"

Dumbledore raised his wand.

"You made me clean the ornaments already, I don't think I can take much more, Princess."

Grindelwald rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's go."

"Wait." Dumbledore dug around in the box of decorations. "There's something...thought we should hang the centrepiece by hand. Know what this is?"

"Mistletoe."

Grindelwald whispered and reached out to grab it.

Dumbledore pulled his hand back and let the mistletoe dangle in the space between them.

"Very clever. Now, what does one do when one is underneath a mistletoe?"

Dumbledore's eyes shone like those of a panther in the hall, and the very sight of them caused his voice to catch in his throat. He could neither breathe nor swallow. 

Come, come closer, his eyes seem to be screaming!

A soft click and suddenly, a flame extinguished itself. A few more clicks and soon all of the lights went out, tiny gobs of light disappearing beneath Grindelwald's robes.

Still, Dumbledore's eyes shone as brightly as ever, even when they were right in front of his and their hunger, their ferocity, made him want to turn tail and run even as his legs had turned to jelly. 

Putting every last ounce of strength into his body, he pressed his lips against the other boy's and closed his eyes.

 

 

 


	12. "You have no tact," he said huffily. "This is a library."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on antibiotics now...

Ever since that impulsive kiss under the mistletoe, Dumbledore became bolder than ever. Stolen kisses behind staircases, in abandoned classrooms, near Professor Rosier's hut and even once, outside the Hufflepuff common room.

After what seemed like the umpteenth kiss, Grindelwald pushed Dumbledore roughly away, panting slightly from the lack of oxygen. Dumbledore was like a hungry breast. Instead of a delicate kiss like the princesses of fairytales receive from their doting princes, it was much more accurate to describe Dumbledore's skills as "sucking face." He would take advantage of whatever leeway Grindelwald gave and strove to glean the maximum advantage of the situation. The way he kissed must be what being on the receiving end of a Dementor's kiss must feel like.

Cheeks slightly flushed, Grindelwald glowered at him over the dim lamps on the table.

"You have no tact," he said huffily. "This is a library."

Smug, Dumbledore reclined lazily on his chair, smirking at Grindelwald's innocence.

"That didn't stop you from reciprocating." He licked his lips. "Besides, they will never suspect a thing." Turning to wave at the silvery-haired librarian who hobbled past them on the way to her bookshelves, he yawned. "We are A+ students, aren't we? The cream of Hogwarts's crop."

"Shut up and finish your essay."

Dumbledore gave him a disgruntled scowl.

"There's still time."

Grindelwald ignored him and began writing on a new piece of parchment. His eagle feather quill zipped fluidly across the creamy paper and it wasn't long before rows of spidery black lines appeared one after another.

He has such nice, slender fingers, thought Dumbledore. The way they gripped the quill nudged Dumbledore's fantasies in a certain direction and, all of a sudden, he felt hot underneath his collar. Grindelwald's rhythmic writing, swish, swish, swish, the deft strokes of the quill and his long, feathery lashes, half-lidded in a look of concentration...

Dumbledore swirled his tongue around in his mouth, hoping to recall how Grindelwald's mouth tasted like, how he had shyly (and coyly) brushed the top of his tongue with his own.

A book slammed down on his head.

"-!"

"Get out if you don't want to do your homework."

"I do, if the homework's you-"

Grindelwald didn't know whether to be angry or amused.

"...continue like this, and I might really take over the top spot from you."

"You don't have to worry," a complacent smiled stretched across Dumbledore's face. "that will never happen."

"If I win you this semester, you'll have to grant me a wish."

"Deal."

* * *

Although he had belittled Grindelwald earlier in the library, he knew that the blonde was not to be underestimated. Dumbledore had caught wind of Grindelwald's exemplary academic achievements. Back at Durmstrang, he was said to be the pride and joy of the teachers, all of them swearing that they have never had the good fortune of teaching such a gifted pupil as Grindelwald. In order to hold on to his position, he would have to put in the effort. Soon, he was holed up day and night in the Gryffindor dormitory, reading and making notes from a pile of books from the library, topics ranging from a history of magic to recent developments in the dark arts. Sometimes, he would still join Grindelwald in the library or even practice duelling with him. But ultimately, the sight and sound of him proved too much of a temptation for Dumbledore to bear, hence he often chose to fly solo, especially because he had a good idea what to ask fro Grindelwald when he won.

As for Grindelwald, he was mildly stunned by Dumbledore's competitive spirit and vaguely disappointed at how easily it seemed for the other boy to drastically cut Grindelwald off from his life. He even found himself missing the stolen kisses and occasional assaults. Even so, he welcomed the respite. First, the sixth years were indeed given a lot of holiday work to plough through. Although this thought was somewhat spoiled by the certainty that Dumbledore had a very specific goal in mind and Grindelwald shuddered at the endless possibilities. 

Second, it was getting harder to push out some of the nagging worries on his mind. Admittedly, he had skirted some of the issues, but he knew it was a matter of time before it blew up.

A snowy white owl flapped its wings and landed with a flourish beside Grindelwald's breakfast plate. Affectionately, it nipped at Grindelwald's fingers, who proceeded to pinch a slice of bacon and fed it. Satisfied, the owl stretched out a leg to reveal the dutifully tied letter. 

Grindelwald removed it, and read:

_How are you?_

_I haven't heard back from you since the holidays started, and thought perhaps the owl had gotten lost or something...No matter, fingers crossed that this one reaches you safe and sound._

_Truth be told, although I'm having quite a bit of fun at home, I miss you terribly and long to hold your hand in mine. I only have a few seconds to dash out these lines before I'm called down to dinner. Would you like to come to my house next Christmas?_

_Hope to hear back from you, a few lines is okay, as long as I know that you are safe and sound, and everything's okay on your end._

 

_With all my love,_

_David._

A sour feeling of guilt began to rise from the bottom of his guts. He confessed that he had not given the matter much thought and being with Dumbledore pushed most matters out of his brain entirely. But he had to sort out his feelings soon, and come up with a reply -

"What's this?"

A slice of buttered toast in one hand, Dumbledore casually snatched the letter from Grindelwald's hands and scanned over the words, his expression gradually darkening into a furrowed crease across his forehead.

"Give that back!"

"Why?" The look in Dumbledore's eyes caused Grindelwald to pause. "So you can reminisce over how much fun you had with him while snogging me?"

Fury began to rise like a tower of flame in Grindelwald, licking and scraping at his insides.

"Give. That. Back."

"What if I don't?" A sneer began to form on Dumbledore's face. "What if I were to burn it?" Pointing his wand at the letter, Dumbledore shouted: " _Incendio_!" 

The smell of charred parchment filled his nose and it was only after the ringing in his ears stopped before he realised what he had done.

He had punched Dumbledore so hard, his fist was bloodied.

Teachers were rushing over to where they both stood, framed by a ring of pale-faced onlookers, but it was as if everything was happening in slow-motion.

Panicking, he reached forward to help Dumbledore to his feet but the latter shrugged his hands off.

Wiping blood off his mouth, Dumbledore spat onto the floor.

"You punched me because of him. For the sake of a guy who brought you to see unicorns in the middle of the night."

At first, he had felt a mixture of pain and guilt only to feel his blood rapidly freezing over at the conclusion of Dumbledore's second sentence.

"How did you know that?"

"Guess you can't forget about him after all."

"I said," he roared and pounced on Dumbledore. "How the hell did you know that?"

More screams and shouts from the crowd but he couldn't hear a single word right now, except those coming from the smug bastard in front of him.

"Did you have me followed?"

"So what if I did? A slut like you who spreads his legs-"

Distantly, a man's voice echoed in his head:

"He seduced me! It was all his fault..."

The world became a blur and all he could feel was the satisfying crunch of bone cracking under impact.

* * *

It was Christmas eve when Dumbledore was released from the hospital wing. Under the teachers' joint discretion, Grindelwald was granted a special reprieve to recuperate in the Hufflepuff dorm.

Hence, the Christmas dinner was the first time Dumbledore had seen Grindelwald since their fight a few weeks back. As Grindelwald entered the dining hall, his arm in a cast, they locked eyes for a few seconds before turning away. The annual dinner proceeded much in the usual fashion. As the number of students and staff who elected to remain behind were not enough to fill four tables, Headmaster Spinel sat everyone down at one long table.

"This erasure of House lines," he said, during the customary start of dinner speech, "is perhaps closer to what our visionary founders have had in mind when they founded Hogwarts."

He toasted the table and with a raise of his hand, the dinner began.


End file.
